


Silver Bells and Cockle Shells

by veleda_k



Category: Cain Saga and Godchild
Genre: Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veleda_k/pseuds/veleda_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain sets out to plant a garden, in his own particular kind of way. So does Merryweather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Bells and Cockle Shells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Splintered_Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splintered_Star/gifts).



> Written for Splinteredstar, who requested "Cain + Riff re: gardening."

The first thing Cain did upon moving into the London house was plant a garden. Riff took care of making the house a habitable place to live, while Cain shut himself up in his new study, ordering seeds and cuttings from around the world. Traditional seed catalogs only had so much to offer Cain's unique interests, so he expanded his efforts, reaching out to less than reputable Hargreaves contacts. Any concerns about the propriety of these transactions were quickly put to rest by Cain's offering prices.

Cain had had to leave most of his precious collection behind in Cornwall Castle. The London mansion was grand, but there simply wasn't room for the centuries of lethal history that rested under the castle. It was the only regret Cain had leaving Cornwall. But he couldn't stay in that place any longer. Not when he saw his father's shadow in every corner, when he felt his father's eyes on him all the time.

So instead the garden. A way to make the mansion truly his.

What Cain quickly learned, as the seeds and plants began to come in, was that imagining a garden was easier than actually planting one. He was stronger than he had ever been, now that his father was no longer poisoning him, but he had still been shut up in the castle almost all his life, and he found himself tiring easily.

One day, Riff found Cain in the garden that was still mostly dirt, dirty and exhausted. “My lord, allow me to do that,” Riff offered softly.

Cain hoped the look on his face didn't look like a pout. “I wanted to do it myself.”

Riff smiled. “But I belong to you,” he said. “So anything I do is an extension of you.”

Cain wasn't 100% certain about that logic, but he truly was tired, and Riff was looking at him kindly. “Very well,” he declared as haughtily as he could muster.

There was something calming in watching Riff plant. His sure, steady hands were as gentle with the seeds as they were with Cain himself. He found his gaze fixed on Riff's hands, a peculiar warmth rising within him. He felt strangely embarrassed, though he couldn't have said why.

Once he was finished, Riff stood up. “I think it's time for tea, my lord.” Cain saw that Riff's normally perfectly pressed trousers had become covered in dirt at the knees. It was a sight so out of line with Riff's usual neat and tidy image that Cain couldn't keep himself from giggling. Riff eyed Cain with puzzlement. “My lord?”

“I think you need to wash up before tea,” Cain said impishly.

Riff smiled at him and brushed dirt off of Cain's face. “I'm not the only one.”

Cain looked at their handiwork. It wasn't impressive right now, but it would grow. “I don't know anything about gardening,” he admitted.

“Neither do I,” said Riff. “We can learn together.”

Cain held Riff's hand as they went inside. The warmth stayed with him the entire time.

The garden bloomed exactly as Cain hoped it would. Cain spent hours attending to his children, each one of them marvelous and unique. There was belladonna, foxglove, angel's trumpets, devils trumpets (which Cain amused himself by putting side by side), castorbean, hemlock, and more. The more delicate specimens were sheltered in the greenhouse, which also served as a winter refuge.

They hid their secrets well, his children. Their lovely delicacy concealed the death within them. Cain felt the rot festering inside his soul, and loved them all the more.

He couldn't stand for any of the staff to go near his garden, except Riff. Part of that was the simple danger of it, but mostly it was that the plants were too much a part of him to let just anyone near. But Riff tended the plants when Cain was away and sometimes when he wasn't. Cain liked watching Riff tend to his garden. It reminded him of the quiet, secret places in his heart he allowed Riff into.

When Merryweather came into Cain's life, she upended everything, even the garden. Riff and Cain knew all the dangers, and all the servants could be trusted to stay away by command. But Merryweather was a curious and willful child, and Cain feared the worst.

Labeling all the plants and marking off the garden was no great task. The real change came on a day when Merryweather was looking, from a safe distance, at the garden. “Doesn't it make you sad?” she asked Cain.

“Does what make me sad?”

“Flowers you can't touch or smell. To have to stand so far away, I think it's lonely.”

Cain looked at her silently. To say that he did touch his plants, very, very carefully, would not address her point. But Cain didn't fully understand what her point _was_. His children didn't make him sad. Before Merry, they had been his one true joy, other than Riff.

But they made Merry sad. And Cain desperately did not want Merry to be sad. “Would you like a garden of your own?” he asked her. “To plant whatever flowers you wish?”

Merry brightened like the sun. “I'd love that!” She hugged Cain tightly, and Cain felt that even if he didn't understand Merry's problem, he had at least found some sort of solution.

Cain set aside a small plot for Merry, but that was the only role he played. Merry threw herself into planning her garden with the same enthusiasm Cain had once shown in planning his, even if her choices were different. Merry filled her garden with daisies, tea roses, daffodils, and baby's breath. She loved them, and Cain found himself loving them too, for the way they made her smile.

For Cain, peace and serenity could only come from his garden, not Merry's. But from Merry's garden came daisy crowns, and the armfuls of bright flowers that Riff enjoyed placing around the mansion, and Cain was surprised to find he had room in his heart for both.

Standing in Merry's garden, he felt Riff come up behind him. “It's beautiful, my lord,” Riff said softly.

Cain turned around. “Yes,” he said. But looking into Riff's eyes, he wasn't thinking of the garden.


End file.
